


Alternatives

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 10:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: When Negan forgets to pick up real food for Christmas dinner, he and Rick have to improvise.





	Alternatives

**Author's Note:**

> For Regan Secret Santa 2017! My prompt was "Last minute shopping for Christmas dinner because SOMEBODY forgot to get it." Whoever's prompt this was, I hope you like it, and happy holidays! <3

“I _knew_ I shouldn’t have trusted you to actually go grocery shopping and get what we needed! Every time I let you go with Judith you come back with pizza rolls and five different kinds of ice cream.”

“Aw, Rick, that’s not fuckin’ fair! You try telling that sweet little face that we don’t need strawberry _and_ bubblgum ice cream in our sundaes.”

Rick breathed out, pinched the bridge of his nose and mentally counted to five. _It’s a damn good thing I had so much therapy after Lori’s death_ , he thought- he’d never have been able to calmly deal with his husband’s antics otherwise.

Though to be completely fair to Negan, it wasn’t entirely his fault that Rick felt like he was about to burst a blood vessel in his brain- it was the holiday stress. It was worse than usual this year, since it was the first time the Grimes family wasn’t spending Christmas with Rick’s parents. _Lifestyle differences_. That’s they’d told him when Rick had called and asked about their lack of invitation. He and Negan knew exactly what that meant, and Rick knew that Carl probably saw right through the thin excuse as to why they were going to be spending the holiday at home instead of up at grandma and grandpa’s ranch like they always did.

So yeah, he was stressed. And maybe a little moody. And maybe he could stand to lighten up just a _little_ bit about Negan only stocking the house with mini pizza bagels and wildberry Poptarts. He had spent three years as a bachelor, after all.

“Dad?” Carl piped up from the backseat of the car, his shaggy head a dark smudge in the rearview mirror. The sun had set over an hour ago, and Rick was losing hope that they would be able to scrape together a nice dinner before midnight.

“Yeah, Carl?”

“You know the grocery store’s closed today, right?”

Rick nearly slammed the brakes in the middle of the intersection- not that it would have mattered much. There was hardly anyone on the road, because other people were wise enough to only hop in the car on Christmas evening if they were taking a trip to see family and friends. “What do you mean they’re closed? They’re not closed! It’s a twenty-four hour grocery store!”

“Not on Christmas they’re not. They’ve had signs up since Thanksgiving, dad. Did you really not notice them?”

Rick groaned into the steering wheel as he rolled into the Kroger parking lot to see that- yep, it was closed. He felt Negan’s hand rubbing up and down his back, and he was torn between snapping at him that this was all his fault and laughing because of course this would be just his luck.

“Hold on, babe- I’ll see if there’s anywhere near us that’s still open, alright?” The sounds of a phone keyboard tapping broke up the still air in the quiet car. It was too quiet- it made Rick itchy and tense. He knew that it was because of him, too- Negan and Carl and even Judith could sense how stressed out he was, and were too worried about setting him off to do anything but walk on eggshells around him. It had been like that since Rick had talked to Lori’s parents two weeks ago, and the thought made sadness bloom guiltily in his chest. It was Christmas, after all, and until twenty minutes ago when Rick had discovered the bereft pantry and fridge, they’d been having such a wonderful day.

_Our first Christmas as a real family, and I’m blowing it._

“No, no…that’s closed too…that closed at noon…shi-shoot, Rick, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, babe everywhere’s closed.” Negan sounded so guilt-ridden and apologetic that all of Rick’s residual annoyance melted away, and he shook his head, his mouth curving into a rueful smile.

“It’s alright, Negan. We’ll eat Christmas cookies for dinner- you won’t mind, will you, Judy?”

“Cookies for dinner!” Judith cried delightedly, clapping her hands around the new stuffed tiger she’d been carrying around since she’d woken up to find it perched atop a pile of presents beneath their tree. Negan had gotten it for her, and just knowing that his husband was so in tune to their daughter’s likes that he’d been the one to pick out her favorite present made happiness spread warm and thick through his chest.

“Yeah, but baby- Christmas dinner. We were gonna make ham and mac and cheese-” Negan began.

Rick waved his husband’s protests away, leaning over to silence him with a kiss that was too quick to elicit an _ew_ from Carl. “We can make it next weekend or something. Have a New Year’s dinner.” Rick reached out and flicked on the radio, fiddling with the dial until he found the station that always played Christmas music from November to January. The soft strum of a guitar filled the car and Rick felt himself relax as he pulled back onto the road. He hummed quietly along as they ambled down the empty street before deciding to give in to the sudden swoop of holiday cheer he’d been filled with and singing along, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

“ _A very merry Christmas_ ,” he crooned, fully aware that his awful warble was butchering John Lennon’s sweet tune. “ _And a happy new year…let's hope it's a good one…_ ” He glanced over to see Negan grinning at him in the passing streetlight, and when the next verse came, he was joined by his husband’s equally terrible singing.

“ _Wiiithout any fear-_ ”

“God! Dad! Don’t, please, _please_ don’t-” Carl wailed, sounding pained. If Rick had glanced into the backseat, he would have seen his son clawing at his ears.

“ _And so this is Christmas, and what have we done-”_

“This is the worst! Go back to shouting at Negan!” But Carl, despite his protests, was laughing even as Judith tried to join in on their sing-along, clumsily repeating the words after Rick and Negan belted them out.

“ _Another year over, a new one just begun…”_

“Dad, wait! Stop!”

Rick grinned and sang the next verse even louder, one hand laced with Negan’s on the center console. “ _And so happy Christmas, we hope you have fun-”_

“Dad, that gas station’s open!”

For the second time that evening, Rick nearly braked in the middle of the road due to the shout, his heart pounding as he calmed down enough to take in his son’s words. He tossed Negan a glance, and the man shrugged. “May not be a damn Whole Foods, but I bet they’ve got more than apple cider and sugar cookies.”

Fair point.

Rick pulled into the parking lot, turning in his seat to face his kids once the car was off. “You two alright with this being our Christmas dinner?”

“Yeah!” Judith nodded enthusiastically.

“This is basically how I eat every day, anyway,” Carl added.

“Good. Well, not _good_ , Carl- but anyway. Alright, ground rules- no candy, no sugary stuff. That’s all we’ve got at home.”

“Can I grab as soda?” Carl asked pleadingly, and Rick warred with himself for a moment before caving.

“One soda. _Not_ a liter. And none of those…those energy drink things. They’re bad for you.”

“All soda is bad for you.”

“Okay, no soda then.”

“Nevermind!” Carl yelped, waving his arms. “No Redbull. You got it.”

Negan turned in his seat to join them, shoulder pressed warm and comforting against Rick’s. “Here’s the plan, kiddos- we grab anything that looks like actual food. I’m talkin’ beef jerky, I’m talkin’ hotdogs, I’m talkin’ any kind of fruit they got.”

“How about taquitos?”

“Yeah, grab a whole bag of those fuckers. All the taquitos they have. We’re gonna clean this place out.” He stuck his hand out, palm down, nodding to it. “Everyone got the game plan?”

“Got it,” they echoed, placing hands atop Negan’s, Judith’s tiny one resting on top. Rick felt a surge of affection for Negan despite the vulgarity- he loved the man’s sweet, dorky dad side, and the way he rallied them like the baseball team he coached.

“Alright! Operation Grimes family Christmas dinner is a go!”

It was barely pushing seven and the gas station was open until one am, but that didn’t stop them from tearing through the place like they were racing the clock. Rick took off in one direction with Judith in his arms while Negan and Carl broke off toward the fruit and drinks, respectively.

“Alright, Judy, what do you want-”

“Ice cream!”

Rick sighed deeply. Clearly his pep talk had been lost on her. “No sweets, Judy, we’ve got all those cookies that we frosted at home.”

She frowned for a moment before gasping and pointing to something over Rick’s shoulder. “Pizza!” Rick spun on his heel to see Judith pointing at…a rack of pizza-flavored pretzels warming in a glass display case, pepperoni and cheese adorning them.

“Good catch, Judy. One for each of us then, huh?”

“Yeah!”

Rick set her down to retrieve the pretzels, and in the thirty seconds it took for him to wrap up four of them, Judith had disappeared.

“Shit.”

Rick wove through the aisles, grabbing things as he went- it wasn’t a big store, after all, and he could hear his daughter’s quiet giggling bubbling up near the glass cases with the drinks where Carl was.

By the time they all converged at the front, their arms were laden with food. Negan had grabbed a couple of apples and oranges as well as what looked to be a dozen taquitos, Carl had gotten his beloved soda as well as a half gallon of milk and some hot cocoa mix, and Judith, who came along clutching at the lag of Negan’s pants, was cradling two pints of ice cream in her arms like they were precious cargo.

“Judith…” Rick protested with a sigh as the haggard-looking cashier began to ring them up, “I thought I said no ice cream.”

“Papa said I could,” she answered cheerfully, and Rick cut his eyes at his sheepish-looking husband.

“Hey, I told you I couldn’t say no to those eyes, Rick! You know firsthand that I have trouble sayin’ no to puppy-dog eyes.” He winked and added the ice cream to the counter. “Besides, only one is bubblegum. We got the other one for you- mint chocolate, your favorite.”

“That sounds like bribery,” Rick muttered, mirth twinkling in his eyes even as he tried to force a disapproving scowl. He _did_ like mint chocolate.

“Sure as hell is, baby,” Negan agreed, planting a kiss on Rick’s temple and forking over his credit card to pay for their feast. “Merry Christmas.”

* * *

All in all, it wasn’t the worst Christmas dinner ever.

The four of them spread out their feast on the coffee table in the living room, watching Home Alone as they munched on soft pretzels and chicken taquitos that didn’t taste quite as greasy as Rick had feared that they would. Halfway through, Negan got up to make them hot chocolate and returned to the living room ten minutes later with steaming mugs topped with marshmallows and whipped cream for himself and the kids, and a rapidly melting scoop of mint chocolate ice cream for Rick.

“I still think it’s weird as hell that you put fuckin’ mint ice cream in your hot cocoa, Rick.” He scooted in close, pulling Rick so that he was nearly in his lap. “Weird, but cute as shit.”

“Tastes damn good, though.” Rick took a slow, careful sip, humming happily at the sweet, creamy taste. Negan chuckled and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, planting warm, wet kisses from the collar of his sweater to his jaw, mouthing at the stubble.

“Hey, baby, I’m…I’m really sorry about today. About forgetting to shop for real food. I know you wanted our first Christmas as a family to be special, and I kinda fucked it up.”

Rick took another drink before squirming in Negan’s lap to place his mug on the table. He turned back to his husband with love in his eyes, cupping the man’s face in his hands and giving him a kiss on the lips, slow and cocoa-sweet. “It’s alright, Negan- no, really, it is,” he assured him when he saw Negan’s frown. “Look at them.” He gestured to Carl and Judith, who were huddled up together in the plush armchair beside them, Judith half-asleep clutching her tiger and Carl dunking a sugar cookie Negan had frosted to look like a zombie into his hot chocolate as he watched the movie. “They’re fine with it. They had fun, they’re happy- I’m happy.” He laid his head on Negan’s chest, his eyelids fluttering shut when he felt Negan’s arms come up to hold him close. “It was plenty special.”

Negan nuzzled into Rick’s curly hair, peppering kisses there. “I’m glad. I love you, baby. And we’re gonna have a real Christmas dinner. I’ll bake you a whole fucking ham. You’ll be eating ham for a goddamned month.”

Rick rumbled a laugh into Negan’s chest, feeling himself growing drowsy in the warm, cozy comfort of his husband’s arms. “I’ll be lookin’ forward to it.”


End file.
